


Belated Birthday Wishes

by Space_and_Thyme



Series: You Are My Lucky Star [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, 1938, Bathing/Washing, Belated Birthday, Bucky loves detective novels, Bucky's 21st birthday, Bucky's birthday, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Domesticity, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Relaxation, Steve takes care of Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_and_Thyme/pseuds/Space_and_Thyme
Summary: Saturday, March 12th, 1938. Bucky's worked for the last twelve days straight - meaning that his birthday two days prior was put on hold. Steve decides to take care of his beloved when he comes home, and has a a couple of days free and clear. This means drawing Bucky a bath, and overall doting on him the way that Bucky always does for him.





	Belated Birthday Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that I'm late posting this for Bucky's actual birthday, but to be fair I did try to post it yesterday - ao3 wouldn't accept it. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Also I think this is probably the lowest rating I've ever written for these two - I had intended to write smut, but they just didn't let me do that. They decided on sweet fluffy domesticity instead. Which is okay.

_Saturday, March 12 th, 1938._

 

Bucky’s shoulders were aching as he pushed the door of the apartment open. It was still early in the afternoon – his Saturday shift had been a short one. That being said, he’d worked straight through since the first of the month, and his body was aching for a day of rest. Thankfully, he wasn’t slated to work until Monday evening. He tugged the buckskin coloured leather work gloves off, and laid them on the small three-legged table that sat just inside their door. He shrugged his way out of the black and brown plaid wool jacket that he’d bundled himself up in to block the cold late-winter wind off the water while he worked, and hung it up on an arm of their rickety old coat rack. He then turned towards Steve as he whipped his flat cap off, and ran his tired fingers back through the dark curls of his hair.

 

Steve, standing by the range in their small kitchenette, was watching Bucky as he stripped off the beginning of his work clothing. He grinned brightly when Bucky’s grey eyes met his. “Got the coffee just brewed – ya want one?”

 

Bucky shook his head slightly, “Nah, not right now, pal. Thanks though.” He paused a moment as he looked at Steve. “Ya just gettin’ back outta bed, Stevie?” Not that he minded – Bucky wasn’t the only one running himself ragged these days. Winter was always difficult, but soon enough it would be spring and things would be easier. More or less he was simply curious, and half hoped that Steve had rested after he left that morning - if only to stave off a late winter fever.

 

Steve shook his head, his golden hair swaying slightly. “Nah, been up since I walked ya out this mornin’. Just needed another cup’a’coffee.” His tiredness was obvious in his voice – the Brooklyn accent slurring even further together. Still, he was smiling happily as he crossed the small apartment towards Bucky. “Hi, sweetheart.” He slipped his thin arms around Bucky’s narrow, but densely muscled, waist and tugged him close.

 

Bucky smiled down at Steve, though it meant slightly bowing his already tender back. “Hi, baby.” He rumbled quietly as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s narrow shoulders. He stooped, leaning in close, and pressed a sweet kiss against Steve’s crown.

 

Steve breathed deeply, enjoying the closeness with the man he loved – but groaned in disgust after only a moment. He pulled back just enough that he could look up at Bucky’s face as his nose scrunched up with revulsion.

 

Bucky couldn’t help the slight snort of amusement that slipped from him. “What’s that face for? Suddenly don’t like my attention?”

 

Steve’s cerulean eyes narrowed – clearly calling Bucky out on his reasoning. “Ya smell like three day old fish…”

 

“I’ll have ya know I only spent fifteen minutes rollin’ in fish guts.” Bucky huffed indignantly, and playfully shoved Steve’s shoulder.

 

Barely hiding a smile, Steve rolled his eyes, “I dunno why I put up with ya – rollin’ in yesterday’s filth like some dog. Actually that’s a good point – _Bucky’s_ the kinda name ya give a _dog_!” he laughed and smacked at Bucky’s bare bicep as the man gave him his best unimpressed expression – just barely masking his amusement.

 

“Don’t forget _you’re_ the one that gave me that handle in the first place, pal.” Bucky paused and rolled his shoulders gently, stretching out the tense muscles as he rocked his head side to side to unkink his neck.

 

“Come on, Buck. I already got the range goin’ why don’t I heat some more water and fill the tub for ya?”

 

Despite the fact that Sarah Rogers had insisted that the apartment had a proper bathtub with water hookups when she was alive, the hot water nearly never ran in the winter. At best it would sputter out slightly above freezing – no better than if the cold water tap was open. So, the way around it was filling several large pots full of water and bringing it to a near boil on the range, and pouring it into the cast iron tub, multiple times. This along with flowing cold water, would at least give them warm bathwater. It would take time, but if Bucky’s body was aching that badly, it was more than worth it to Steve.

 

“Nah, it’s okay baby-“ Bucky shifted his shoulders again as he pushed his dark brown and beige suspenders from them, letting them fall down by his hips.

 

“I wasn’t actually askin’, jerk.” Steve pulled away from him, and moved back to the kitchenette.

 

“Uh… okay?” Bucky blinked a little as he watched his friend just suddenly move away from him with a purpose.

 

“Good!” Steve had retrieved three pots from under the cupboard and started filling them with water.

 

“Here, let me help ya…” Bucky lifted the large soup pot out of the sink and heaved it onto the burner of the gas range; it wasn’t the heaviest thing he’d carried today. It wasn’t that Steve wasn’t fully capable of lifting the pot, nor was Bucky trying to make a show of his strength. He only wanted to help.

 

“Thanks, hunny.” Steve let him help, because he _knew_ that Bucky wasn’t suggesting that he was incapable of it himself. Bucky had always understood that despite Steve’s size and general health concerns that he was just as capable as the next person – even _if_ Bucky tended to end the fights that Steve started. Even if everyone else thought that that was Bucky clearly stating himself as the dominant force of the two friends. Nothing was further from the truth; Bucky was a strong soul, but their dynamic wasn't so easily described. They were equals, after all, and always had been.

 

“’Course, Stevie.” Bucky smiled tiredly, but lifted the next two pots onto the range, where directed.

 

As Bucky set the last pot down, Steve sidled up behind him. He gently laid his hand onto Bucky’s broad back, between his shoulder blades, and scratched lightly through the white cotton of his t-shirt. He moved his hand slowly downward as he scritched affectionately – travelling the line of Bucky’s spine to the top of his dark buckle-back denim work trousers. Steve laid his head tenderly on the warm peak of Bucky’s left shoulder – the man instantly bowed to the left to lay his head against Steve’s in return.

 

“That’s gonna take a while to heat up.” Steve murmured softly after a moment of staring at the pots, while lingering close to his friend.

 

“I know.” Bucky hummed, a soft rumble as he easily draped his arm over Steve’s shoulder and tugged him a little closer, right as Steve's hand left his back - his arm instead wrapped around Bucky's waist.

 

The half-hug didn't last very long. “Okay, go get outta these clothes – ya stink. I’ll get ya when the tub’s full.” Steve pushed Bucky away with a laugh.

 

“No, ya’ll get me when the pots are fully heated so _I_ can carry ‘em to the bathroom.”

 

Steve glared up at Bucky, and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m perfectly capable of lifting-“

 

“Yeah, ya are. But _my_ hands are calloused and less sensitive to heat. I don’t want ya gettin’ burned, punk.”

 

Steve paused. Technically Bucky was correct – from his work and his years of caring for Steve, Bucky’s hands were work-worn and adapted to carrying the heated metal pots – he did it multiple times every winter when filling the tub for Steve. Steve couldn’t actually argue – his hands, though also calloused (albeit in different patterns) from his art, were not used to carrying several gallons of boiled water at a time. “Alright…” he conceded, despite the fact that it rubbed him the wrong way. He hated that it was something that he  _shouldn’t_ do himself.

 

Forty minutes later, the tub was full of water. The steam rose happily and curled in delicate tendrils above the surface. The bathroom was small, but cozy enough; Steve sat on the vanity with a natural sponge in hand, as he waited for Bucky to come out of the bedroom.

 

After a moment, Bucky stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door quietly closed behind himself. He was naked, stripped out of the heavy work clothes, and his shoulders were sagging minutely after being held straight for so many hours. He turned, looking at the steaming bath tub, and exhaled softly. The temperature in the room was already warmer than the main living space of the apartment. He looked up at Steve and smiled a little shyly. “Feels a bit backwards, pal.”

 

Steve cocked a brow as he looked back at Bucky. “Why?”

 

“’Cause normally I’m the one lookin’ after you…”

 

“Yeah, well ya always put me first. Lemme look after ya, Buck.” Steve motioned to the tub as he hopped off the vanity counter. “Afterward ya can go right ta bed if ya want…”

 

Bucky nodded and stepped into the tub; slowly lowering himself into hot water. It felt _amazing_ on his sore muscles, and he couldn’t help the low moan of pleasure that left his lips as he leaned against the back of the tub. His eyes closed and his head dropped back as he stretched out as best he could. The water was deep enough to lap at the bottom of his pectorals as he sank a little deeper.

 

Pulling up the short wooden stool that Bucky kept in the bathroom for changing light bulbs, Steve seated himself behind the tub. He laid one hand gently on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately as he leaned forward and nosed at Bucky’s dark hair before kissing his crown. Bucky smiled up at him sleepily as he lifted his hand out of the warm water and laid his palm over Steve’s fingers. Steve put the sponge he’d been holding down, pinching it between his knees as he pressed further forward; putting his other hand on Bucky’s far shoulder. He started to slowly starting to work his thumbs into the tense and knotted muscles lining the back of Bucky's torso. Beneath his hands, Bucky relaxed – his spine arching slightly as he pushed back into the wall of the tub. He moaned lowly as Steve’s hands worked his tired flesh.

 

Steve bit his lip as he listened to Bucky’s pleasured sounds. To him, it was a symphony designed to arouse and seduce him. He cleared his throat quickly, and pushed more of his slight weight into his hands as he finally released the knots framing Bucky’s neck. Moving his hands, he felt around, and slowly worked out each of the cramped muscles he found, one by one. When he’d finally completed that task, he picked the sponge back up, and soaked it in the water at Bucky’s side. With the sponge soaked, he began rubbing the bar of sunlight soap over it, frothing it into foam. “Lean forward, Buck.” Steve nudged him gently.

 

Bucky shifted his weight forward, nearly doubling himself over into the water as he exposed his back. He elongated his spine as he sank his arms into the water up to his shoulders. He exhaled happily as the water brought warmth back into his arms. “This okay?”

 

“Perfect.” Steve hummed and squeezed the sponge out over the top of Bucky’s back, letting the warm water trickled down his spine, before scrubbing tenderly. Beneath him, Bucky sighed in content.

 

“Stevie…” Bucky moaned lowly, as he turned to look over his shoulder at his lover. His pupils were already faintly dilated with pleasure. 

 

Steve lifted his cupped hands and trickled warm water down Bucky’s back for a second time, rinsing the foam away. Taking his chance, he leaned in and sweetly pressed a kiss against Bucky’s shoulder blade with a smile. “Feelin’ better?”

 

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky hummed happily. “Thank you.”

 

Steve kept the lower portion of his face resting against the heated skin of Bucky’s shoulder. “More 'an welcome…. ‘sides, ya always look after me when I’m achin’…” he brushed a kiss against the clean flesh in front of him. 

 

“Mmm…” Bucky hummed tunelessly with contentment. “I’ll always look after ya.” He stretched easily and turned to face Steve with a tender smile.

 

“’l’always look after ya, too, jerk.” Steve braced his hands on the edges of the enamel coated cast iron tub. Lurching forward, he brushed his lips to Bucky’s.

 

Bucky lifted his hand from the warm water and cradled Steve’s jaw softly in his wet palm. He kissed him tenderly; licking sweetly at the seam of Steve’s plush lips – pulling a soft groan from the smaller man as Bucky shifted a little closer on his knees. The water sloshed quietly in the tub with every movement, as his slick mouth moved against Steve’s, tongues brushing and stroking together. Steve tasted like his typical sugared black coffee – dark and rich, but familiar.

 

Steve only pulled back when he needed to breathe - feeling his lungs beginning to burn as he rested his forehead to Bucky’s. He panted softly, working on composing himself, though he covered Bucky’s hand on his face with his own as they rested together. After a moment, he turned his head slightly, just enough to nuzzle the peak of Bucky’s cheekbone, before pulling away and kissing his forehead.

 

“I’m gonna get started on dinner; why don’t ya crawl into bed and relax? I’ll get ya when the food’s ready.” Steve ran his fingers back through Bucky’s curls, and scratched affectionately at his scalp, making the other man shiver slightly.

 

“It’s okay, Stevie, I can-“

 

“Bucky. Go lie down and relax. I don’t care if ya sleep or not, just… relax, okay?”

 

Bucky sighed softly and nodded his head. “Alright… ya mind if I have a smoke – I’ll open the window a’course.”

 

“Nah, just don’t breathe that crap into my pillow and you’re good.” Steve teased, as he stood up and pushed the stool out of the way with his foot.

 

Bucky snorted as he rose up out of the water and grabbed the nearby towel – wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out the tub. He accepted the hand that Steve automatically offered him, if only so that he wouldn’t over balance while he stepped onto the bath mat. “Only got one smoke left anyway, so you’re good.” He chuckled as he leaned back over and pulled the plug out of the drain.

 

An hour later found Bucky lying on their small shared bed in only his boxers. His left foot was planted on the bed, knee raised, as his right calf rested against his left thigh. He was loose and relaxed, all the tension in his muscles ironed away. His own pillow was braced between his shoulders, while his head rested lightly on Steve’s. His right arm was tucked under his head, while his left was lightly draped over the side of the bed. The Lucky Strike was loosely held between his index and middle fingers. The ash slowly floated to the floor as the smoke curled softly towards the ceiling – carried away by the cool late-winter breeze that flittered through the open window. His eyes were closed, simply relaxing and existing in the moment as he listened to the traffic outside, and the slight bumping and clanging of Steve working in the kitchen.

 

A particularly loud bang from the kitchen, followed by Steve’s quiet cursing, caught his attention. At least Steve didn’t sound to be in pain, so Bucky knew it wasn’t worth vaulting himself out of bed and running to the kitchenette immediately. “Stevie?” he called out and waited for the response.

 

“’S’Okay Buck! Just dropped the pan I was washin’!”

 

Bucky could still hear the soft grumbling, but knew not to push it any further. “Alright… tell me if ya need any help though, yeah?!”

 

“I’m good, Buck. You relax!”

 

Bucky fell silent, as the statement hadn’t really required a reaction. He slowly lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a lazy drag, and held it before breathing the smoke out lethargically, like a somnolent dragon as he lowered his arm off the side of the bed again. He tapped the ash off of the cigarette and into the small dish he’d set on the floor.

 

He was calm and relaxed, drifting in and out of consciousness as he laid there, enjoying the feeling of the soft, nearly worn-through, bedding against his mostly naked skin. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself such self-indulgence as lying in bed before night fall, and longer since he’d taken time for just himself to relax. Letting Steve take care of him, while enjoyable, was a little strange. But, Steve wanted to do it, and Bucky could never deny his lover such a basic desire.

 

Bucky’s breathing was shallow and even as he lingered on the edge of sleep – perhaps a catnap wasn’t the worst thing he could do for his work-worn body. He continued to smoke the cigarette down to the butt, before leaning down and stamping it out on the makeshift ash tray. He relaxed back onto the bed, and just started to drift off into a doze, when the door of the bedroom creaked fully open. Bucky’s eyes remained closed, though he listened for Steve.

 

Steve crossed the floor as quietly as he could, avoiding the few creaking floorboards as he came to stand beside Bucky, who was lying on Steve’s half of their shared single bed. Bucky appeared to be asleep, and while Steve didn’t want to wake him, he _did_ want to give Bucky his birthday gift – which had already been put off for two days. Taking his chance, Steve hopped up onto the bed, quickly swinging his leg over Bucky’s waist and settling down on him – driving a huff from Bucky’s lungs at the unexpected, sudden, weight.

 

“Hoooooo! Stevie!” Bucky wheezed – albeit a little exaggerated for show as he cracked an eye open to look up at his beloved. His left hand settled on Steve’s right flank.

 

Steve grinned, playing along with the teasing. He leaned forward, extending himself as best his crooked spine would allow, and kissed the feline tip of Bucky’s nose. “Happy Birthday, Buck.” He pulled back, still grinning brightly as he produced an oddly shaped packet wrapped in butcher’s paper and tied with string.

 

Bucky quirked a dark brow as he glanced between Steve’s beaming grin and the object in his hands. He smiled tenderly as his right hand gently trailed up and down the back of Steve’s arm with soft, barely there, caresses. “Birthday was Thursday, punk.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes with good natured exasperation. “I know that, jerk. But ya were workin’ the whole damn time… figured today was a better bet.”

 

Bucky grinned back with half of his mouth. “I _was_ pretty dead ta the world, yeah.”

 

“Ya fell asleep in the middle of your glass a’whisky… I’d say ya were pretty joed.” Steve laughed softly as he settled a little more comfortably – sitting on Bucky’s lower abdomen and leaning lightly back against his friend’s raised knees. He used Bucky's raised knees and sturdy thighs as a way of resting his own, now aching, back after hefting pots of water, and sitting on the unforgiving wooden stool for too long.“Here.” Steve held the package out for Bucky to take. “I know it ain’t much, and it’s in butcher’s paper, but-“

 

“ _Stevie_ …” Bucky chided gently as he took the parcel from Steve’s hands. “Ya know I don’t expect nothin’. We’re poor as rats, and the only thing that really matters ta me is _you_ … and I already _got_ ya.”

 

The pink blush spread across Steve’s face and down his throat and into his shirt faster than Bucky would have expected. It made him chuckle slightly, resulting in Steve lightly smacking his bare shoulder. “Sap.”

 

“Yeaaaah I dunno what I was thinkin’ – why on _Earth_ would I ever want ya?” Bucky rolled his eyes in jest.

 

“Damn right.” Steve nodded curtly, still playing their game. After a moment he nodded to the packet in Bucky’s hands. “Open it.”

 

Bucky shifted slightly, pushing himself further up the mattress, and bringing the surprised Steve along for the ride. He flashed Steve a little predatory grin when the man gasped and clung to him during the movement. Bucky settled himself back against the pillows again, this time mostly sitting upright, with Steve still straddling his waist. Bucky set the package down on his belly and pulled the cotton string free, before working the brown kraft paper open. Two packs of Lucky Strikes fell out of the gift wrapping, as Bucky fished out the two larger items.

 

Seeing the cigarettes alone, Bucky’s brows shot up. “Ya didn’t hafta-“

 

“I know I didn’t hafta… but ya never take anything for yaself… figured if a couple’a’smokes is what helps and a glass’a’whisky now and then… then I can hardly say no. Besides, I saw ya were gettin’ low on 'Strikes.”

 

“Thank you, Stevie-“

 

“Don’t say that till ya see the other two things.” Steve was all but beaming like the sun – nearly trembling in excitement.

 

Bucky snorted, and nodded. “Alright, alright…” Smiling, he set the paper aside on their night table, and looked down at the books in his hands. Steve had turned the paperbacks so that their covers were facing each other when he wrapped them; Bucky had to turn the top one over. His grey eyes lit up when he saw the titles of the books. The first one was John Dickson Carr’s _The Hollow Man_ , and the second, lingering below it, was the Agatha Christie novel that had been published the year before – which he’d been all but dying to read: _Death on the Nile_.

 

Grinning brightly, Bucky tossed the paperbacks and the cigarette packs aside onto the open area of the mattress, and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. He pulled him down quickly. “Thank you, Sugar!” Without giving Steve the chance to answer, he pulled him into an ecstatic and passionate kiss.

 

Steve groaned happily into Bucky’s mouth – eyes instantly sliding shut as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s warm, bare, shoulders and returned the blissful kiss. Steve felt Bucky’s fingers card into his hair as he laid himself down, chest to chest, against him.

 

Just as Steve’s breath was starting to run out, Bucky pulled back from his mouth and immediately started peppering soft, lingering, kisses over the curve of Steve’s jaw. He kissed joyfully down the thumping line of Steve’s pulse, around and over the front of his throat – taking time to tease Steve’s skin with little kitten-licks in the hollow, before kissing up the other side of his neck again.

 

Steve was a whimpering and panting mess in his hands. “You’re… wel…welcome.” He fought to find, and control, his voice as Bucky’s talented tongue flicked at his earlobe. Steve shuddered a full body shiver, his fingers digging into Bucky’s shoulders again. He swallowed tightly, trying to think through the fog of lust that Bucky was easily generating within him. "I gotta… gotta tell ya somethin’.” Steve finally managed to murmur – brushing his lips against the corner of Bucky’s mouth as the man pulled back enough to look up at him.

 

“What?” Bucky panted softly.

 

“I… I ruined the cake.” Even Steve found himself surprised to be admitting that.

 

Bucky blinked stupidly, not understanding. “Pardon?”

 

“I was makin’ your birthday cake… it was in the oven when I dropped the pan… that bang killed the cake. It’s flat and sad.”

 

Bucky couldn’t help but immediately snort. “Aw, baby…”

 

“It’s like a giant brownie now…” Steve sighed softly. “’m sorry.”

 

Bucky, this time, burst into laughter as Steve’s sad expression. “Oh, god, _sweetheart._ ‘s’just a cake.” He pulled him down into a tender kiss, which Steve melted into again. After a moment, Bucky pulled back again. “But I gotta ask… I know those books weren’t cheap, nor were the smokes… how’d ya manage?”

 

“Oh, I sold a painting just before Christmas – bin savin’ the money for your birthday since.”

 

“You sold a painting? That’s great baby!” Bucky pushed himself up a little higher. “Which one?”

 

Steve flared red again, immediately making Bucky quirk his brow. “Uh… well… ya remember when you nearly knocked power out ta all’a’Brooklyn?”

 

“Yeah…” Bucky drew out slowly, as the dread started settling in his shoulders. “When I made the hydra lamp for ya… and ya painted… me… naked - oh, you _didn’t_.”

 

Steve ducked his head down – his shoulders rising up around his ears. “I did… ‘m sorry…”

 

While Bucky may not have been the happiest, it wasn't his painting to control. So, Bucky shook his head, “Don’t apologize – it was yours ta sell if ya wanted to-“

 

“No… I uh… I’m sorry because of _who_ bought it.”

 

Bucky froze as the dread swelled in his gullet again. “Anyone I know?”

 

Steve stared back at him for a long moment, debating on how to break the news. Finally, he just decided to quickly rush it out. “It was Mama Winnie.” The words flooded out, and he immediately leaned in to kiss Bucky.

 

Bucky flinched, but responded to the kiss first – before suddenly tearing back from Steve, as the knowledge sank in. “Wait – _what?!_ ” his voice raised with panic. “You sold the painting of me, _naked_ , to my Ma?!”

 

“In my defence she saw it one day while she was over and you were at work, and she loved it.”

 

“It’s my _naked body_ , Steve! You sold my MOTHER a painting with my … my hambone and clappers on display?!” his voice had reached a fevered pitch that Steve had only rarely witnessed.

 

Steve snorted, unable to help it at both the pitch of Bucky’s voice, and the chosen words. “ _Hambone and clappers,_ Christ Buck, ya sound like the kids runnin’ ‘round town!”

 

“Well excuse me for panickin’ when you _sold my mother a paintin’ of my particulars hangin’ out!_ ”

 

“She liked the paintin’, Buck!”

 

“I DON’T WANNA KNOW THAT STEVIE!”

 

“I meant the colours and technique ya genius!”

 

“Oh that’s _so_ much better – my little sister can see that, ya know! Oh, GOD, and my Da!”

 

Steve started laughing as he shook his head. “Shut up and kiss me you twit.”

 

Bucky glanced up at him, and sighed, forcing himself to relax. “This isn’t over, Stevie. I can’t believe ya’d agree to that – that paintin’ was for _you_ …”

 

“Yeah… I know, Sweetheart, but I wanted ta treat ya… besides,” He settled closer and stared pressing soft little kisses against Bucky’s naked clavicle. “I got the real thing now…”

 

Bucky sighed lowly. “You’re lucky I love ya, punk.”

 

Steve laughed softly against his chest. “I’ll make it up ta ya tonight. Cross my heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if anyone is curious about what Bucky's work outfit looks like, this is it:
> 
>  


End file.
